


I like your eyes.

by kazahegao



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Blood, Bloodplay, M/M, Skull Fucking, Vomiting, fun fun fun! :-)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 10:08:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8201318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazahegao/pseuds/kazahegao
Summary: An alternate universe where The Boss does actually cut out Snake's eye.
Ocelot has some fun.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i want to say i'm sorry for this, but i'm not.
> 
> EDIT: fixed some things that were bugging me. Also, shoutout to my homeboy Ria. She didn't contribute to this or anything but shoutout.

Snake sat on the floor, not crying, not thinking. Just staring. Staring at the darkness of the fabric. His whole body ached. After every punch, every shock, he was amazed he had survived. Some part of him hoped he hadn’t.  
The pain in his eye hurt so much, blood occasionally dripping out as it throbbed. That wasn’t what hurt the most, though. It was how it got like that that hurt more.

Before he can ‘reminisce’ about the whole incident, the creak of a door interrupts his thoughts. The sound of metal clanking against the hard floor fills the room.

Ocelot.

Footsteps grow louder and he feels a presence above him. "Don’t say a word, okay?" the man whispers, as he pulls the bag off his head.

A loud gasp escapes from him as he inhales the air around him. It tastes like blood.

Pale blue eyes watch his single blue one with what seems to be... curiosity? Maybe something else.

His arms tense and attempt to pull at the restraints, to no avail.

"Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you," he says, almost reassuringly, "Well, I don’t intend to, anyway..."  
He inches forward, head getting closer. His face is hot. Before Snake can put 2 and 2 together, lips are on his.  
Too many questions whirl through his head, he can’t pick one to focus on. He instead focuses on the heat from Ocelot’s body. It keeps him warm in this cold room which he’s been in for hours – he can’t help but accept it.  
His gloved hand grabs the back of his head, clutching tightly at the dark hair, his tongue trying to shove its way down his throat. Neither of them know what they’re doing, to be honest.

Feeling a growth in his trousers, he pulls back. _Can’t finish too soon. This is too good..._

With one swift movement, he’s on his feet and he’s unzipping his trousers.  
It’s too dark for Snake to be able to tell, and he only realizes something’s wrong when something’s nudging at his newly formed eyehole.

Fingers pry open his eyelids, "I always liked your eyes, Snake. I can never tell what you’re thinking," he comments, as he slowly inserts the tip into his socket.

A loud yell escapes from Snake. He’s not in _that_ much pain. Not yet. Lord knows what he’d do to him. He needed help. "Hel-!"

His hand dives down and smacks over his mouth. "This room is soundproof!" Ocelot says, huffing, "And even if it wasn't, who’d care about some American dog like you?" he scoffs.

After a long silence, he slowly edges it forward. Thankfully for Snake, there wasn’t much left.

"A liiiiittle more," he breathes, as he finally thrusts it all the way in.

A loud hiss escapes his gritted teeth. His good eye squeezes shut.

"Oh yeah," he moans, eyes half lidded, "That’s it."

"Fffuck you," the American slurs. It feels disgusting, this strange penetration somewhere it shouldn’t be, somewhere nothing else besides an eyeball should go. He felt his stomach tense up. Volgin’s ‘interrogation’ had made him let out enough bodily fluids for today.

Ocelot grins, pulls out, and thrusts in quickly.

The sharp stinging pain causes him to yelp out in pain. _It hurts. It hurts._  
_This man lacks empathy._

Oh, but Ocelot loved the tight, wet feeling around his cock, it was nothing he’d ever experienced before. Better than his hand, and better than a whore’s mouth.  
The red liquid felt so good, and it looked even better dripping down his face…  
Gloved fingers reach down and wipe at it, and then go back up to his mouth. He licks it. _It tastes… Like him._  
Hips buck more eagerly, his hands reach around and dig into his scalp.

What added to the feeling of disgust, was the fact that the Russian’s balls were smacking against his bloodied cheek.

_Smack, grunt, smack, grunt._

Tears welled in his eyes. **This** was the one thing worse than what had happened, and how it had happened.  
A sob built up in his throat, and he let out a pathetic little whimper. He prayed someone would come in, even if they didn’t help, they could still get him to leave for some reason. Anything.  
His good eye stares at the door, wide, he’s never hoped for anything this much in his life.

Ocelot’s fingers reach down at his bloodied eye again, and smear the blood down his cheek, and he licks it clean off his gloves.

He pulls out and crouches down. The sudden feeling of emptiness feels so good to Snake, but another unpleasant feeling follows.

His tongue licks slowly up his cheek, up to his bottom eyelid. His pleased expression, the kick he’s getting out of this set’s Snake on edge. His stomach churns again, but this time he does let something out.

The warm feeling rises up his throat, and out it comes. Puke. Green all over Ocelot’s chin and neck. He chuckles slightly, somewhat proud of himself.

"You think this is funny?" Ocelot hisses, wiping the vomit off his chin and shoving it back into his mouth.

It tastes like stomach acid.

"Be fucking thankful, I could have put that somewhere else," he hisses again, standing back up. Unpleasant images flash in Snake’s head, and it’s hard to make sure he doesn’t puke again.

That sharp, stinging pain is back.

Ocelot is numb to the noises he’s making. Numb may be the wrong word, he’s definitely aware of them, a little _too_ aware.  
His fingers feel around at his good eye, poking and prodding as he thrusts, after that they move over to his ears, which he feels around and pokes into the holes. They then pry their way into his mouth, getting a small gag in response from the man below. He chuckles. This guy is fucked, to say the least.

"Snake, Snake," he breathes, his head kicking back.

War isn’t hell. **This** is.

Snake wriggles and writhes at his restraints, he tugs and pulls, shakes, but it makes him enjoy it all the more.

"Say… Say my name," Ocelot moans, before looking down at him with an eager expression plastered onto his face.

Silence.  
(Well, if silence includes loud smacking and quiet sobbing.)

"I said-"

“Ocelot.” He grunts, through gritted teeth. His eye is open, and watching him, and he hates it.

Ocelot laughs, and grabs onto the back of Snake’s scalp, nails even through the leather of his gloves managing to find their way into his skin.

His thrusts are so fast, Snake’s head is knocked back and forth at such speed that he chokes every time.

It feels so good, so wet, so tight.

It hurts so much, so hard, so full.

With a loud choke of a moan, Ocelot’s thick load fills up the hole.

Snake lets out a loud guttural noise, and his eye is hooded and looks distant.

Ocelot is almost too proud as he watches the thick fluid ooze out of his socket.

He picks up the bag off the floor, places it back on his head, walks out, and leaves.

He hopes nobody will notice the cum and tear stains on the floor.


End file.
